


Cleave

by Wagontrain



Series: Steel Against Steel [2]
Category: Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Dark, F/F, Family, Gen, Homophobia, The Codex, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagontrain/pseuds/Wagontrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel fled to the Capital Wasteland to escape the Grand Clusterfuck, but Arthur and Veronica soon  realize that doctrine was written for institutions, not individuals.</p>
<p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/17186">Messiah in Absentia</a> and companion story to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/599667">The Low Road</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleave

The microfusion cell in his rifle was drained, his armor dented from countless blows, and beyond the barricades he could see the enemy rallying for another assault.

_This is a beautiful day for a war,_ Arthur Maxson thought with a grin.

“They’re coming back for more!” he bellowed, drawing his ripper and starting the chain blade whirring. Behind him, the Lyons’ Pride -battered and wounded after hours of combat- readied themselves for the charge. Talon Company had come in force, apparently with every intention of taking the Jefferson Memorial and Project Purity along with it. _And they’ll probably destroy it, just like they do everything else,_ Arthur scowled. _I’d pay real caps to know what the hell their problem is._

The armored form of Star Paladin Cross crashed down behind the wall next to him, a fusillade of bullets chasing her into cover. “Knight Maxson.” Cross’ tone was level, but Arthur had known her long enough to recognize the quiet worry in her voice. “Perhaps it would be wise to consider a tactical withdrawal. The Talon presence is-” She broke off as the roar of a rocket shook their hiding spot. “…significant.”

“I’ll be _damned_ before I let those mercenaries see my back!” Arthur shouted back. “Elder Lyons charged us to hold Purity, and we will!”

Cross shook her head sharply. “That objective appears to be beyond us. We gain nothing by dying as well.”

“We’re not dying today,” Arthur grinned. “Vargas! Give me covering fire!”

Vargas yelled something back that sounded remarkably like “That’s a stupid idea!” but Arthur was already over the barricade and charging. Two hundred feet of broken ground lay between the Brotherhood emplacements and the Talon Company positions and he met it at a run, bullets clanging off his armor but doing little more than deafening him a bit. _Ballistics won’t stop Brotherhood power armor,_ Arthur grinned in his helmet even as another strike rattled his teeth. _They won’t stop m-_

The ground shattered under him and Arthur cried out as an explosion blew him from his feet. He landed with a crunch and a spike of pain as something in the armor’s shoulder gave. Arthur struggled to a runner’s crouch and raced across the last sixty, throwing himself bodily into the Talon Company position. _See you use rockets now, cowards!_ he thought, drawing his ripper from its sheath and setting the teeth spinning with a flick. Three Talon soldiers held this holdout and all turned at him, firing futilely again and again into his armor. Arthur swung the ripper at the first man, spraying blood from his throat before twisting and driving it point-first into the chest of the woman next to him. The teeth bit into her armor, tearing through to the flesh underneath in an instant. 

The last mercenary backed away, eyes wide as Arthur pulled his blade free from the body. “You thought you could take this place from me?” Arthur demanded, advancing slowly. He backed the man against the rubble he’d sheltered behind, his helmet adding a horrible resonance to his voice. “Do you know what happens to people who cross the Brotherhood?”

Instead of running, the Talon soldier merely held an open hand, grenade pins dangling from his fingers. “Fuck you.”

Sense returned to Arthur moments later; seconds or minutes he couldn’t guess. Where the man had stood was now a substantial crater in the ground and Arthur lay flat on his back, his armor shredded. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but his armor failed him, joints locking in place. With some effort he loosened the fastens on his helmet, dropping the ruined metal to the ground.

“Cross…” he said, trying to free himself from the rest of his armor. All around him he could hear the sounds of Talon gunfire and Brotherhood energy weapons and under that, careful footsteps.

“Look at that,” a voice muttered. “Royce _did_ take that fucker down.”

“You see what he did to Christen and Adam?” another asked. 

Arthur struggled in place, straining to see them. Two Talon soldiers crouched over him, watching with predatory eyes. Arthur’s fingers clenched, but the ripper wasn’t anywhere nearby.

“I liked Adam. Been with him since Sidling Hill.” The soldier raised his rifle. “What do you think, fast or slow?”

“Fast. We’ve got a mission to carry out.”

“I can’t die here,” Arthur snarled.

“You’d be surprised how often we hear people say stupid shit like that,” the merc answered, aiming down his barrel at Arthur’s head. “See you in hell, you son of a bitch.”

With an inarticulate roar Cross vaulted the rubble, swinging her super sledge with all her considerable strength. The first merc folded almost in half at the blow and Cross carried through on the motion, bringing the hammer behind her back and then sharply down on the other man, pulverizing his skull in an instant. She wavered on her feet, panting for breath even as she fixed Arthur with a stern glare. “That was a foolhardy course of action, Brother Maxson.” 

Arthur finally pulled free of his ruined armor, peering past the rubble of the Talon nest to look over the rest of the battle. Paladins waded into the Talon lines, inspired by his charge, and even as he watched the mercenaries broke and ran. The fastest among them made it thirty feet before being cut down in a hail of coherent light.

“Fortune favors the bold, Cross,” Arthur replied with a ready grin. “We won.”

Cross frowned, and that slight lapse in her discipline revealed how outright furious she was with him. “You are forgetting yourself, Brother. You are more than a paladin, you are the last of the Maxsons. You _cannot_ callously throw your life away.”

“My soul is forged from eternal steel.” Arthur brushed himself off. “I’ll be _fine_. You’re starting to sound like my wife. Come on, let’s check on Purity. They may have taken casualties.”

Cross followed him back towards the Jefferson Memorial as the rest of Lyon’s Pride finished off any Talon mercenaries still breathing. She was quiet, but Arthur knew Cross well enough to know that she was simmering behind her mask of duty and obligation. _She’s going to go complain to the Elder about my ‘recklessness’ again,_ he thought with a sigh. 

Other than a smattering of new bullet holes, the memorial looked untouched by the Talon Company assault. Dr. Madison Li met them on the steps outside, arms crossed. “Knight Maxson. Paladin Cross. I…thank you for your intervention. My team wouldn’t have lasted long without you.”

“Helping the people of the Wasteland is of the utmost to the Lyons Doctrine,” Cross replied. If she noticed Dr. Li’s quiet hostility towards the Brotherhood, she gave no indication. 

“The Talon Company has become bolder and bolder,” Arthur commented. “We’ll put a stop to them, I promise you.”

“I’ve been hearing that for years now,” Dr. Li scowled. “Then we don’t see the Brotherhood again until Talon’s got us lined up against a wall. We need _order._ At least Jackson actually got rid of the raiders.”

Arthur bristled at the mention of the tyrant’s name. “The Brotherhood’s done you a lot of good for you, doctor. Maybe you ought to remember that the next time you think about praisi-”

“Brother Maxson,” Cross intoned.

“I’m not done yet.” Arthur snapped. “The arrogance of it! Begging for our help when you need it and sending us off after we’ve saved you. It’s enough to-”

“Brother _Maxson_.” Cross’ firm tone stopped him, and he turned to look at her. She wasn’t looking at him at all, rather staring off at the clouds. Arthur squinted into the dawn’s light. 

“What…are they?” Dr. Li asked.

They hung in the air over the Capital Wasteland: seven long cylinders with cabins strapped underneath. Even at a distance, they could make out the faint whirring of the rotors. “Dirigibles?” Arthur asked with a frown.

“Not dirigibles,” Cross answered. “Airships.” She watched the airships drift. “And headed for the Citadel.” 

“That’s something unexpected,” Dr. Li murmured.

“We have to get back,” Arthur said immediately. “They could be Enclave. We need to get back to the Citadel!”

“On that we are agreed,” Cross replied. 

The paladins outside had seen the airships as well, and it only took a few minutes work to head out. Though Arthur lacked his fellow’s armor, he ran hard to keep up as they made their way across the Wasteland. The lead airship was almost over the Citadel by the time they arrived, and Arthur wasted no time making his way to the armory and calling for squires to fit him into a new set of armor. 

Several squads had taken up defensive positions in the bailey as the airship settled overhead, blocking out the sun’s light. Cross saw Arthur approach and directed him to support one of the squads, and for once he obeyed without question. 

A screech of metal on metal echoed down as a platform detached from the airship’s underside, hanging from winch chains. Arthur tightened his grip around his laser rifle as it descended, revealing a figure in Brotherhood power armor painted in the Scribe’s shade of maroon. Something was wrong with the gauntlets, Arthur realized: both had been modified to incorporate power fists.

“Identify yourself,” Cross shouted across the bailey as the platform reached the ground. “Friend or foe?”

The figure in maroon power armor worked the neck gaskets, pulling the helmet free to reveal a woman with dark hair hidden under a kerchief. “Hello,” she said, waving awkwardly. “I’m Veronica, and we…” she gestured to the airships above. “…are the Mojave chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. You guys wouldn’t happen to have, like, two hundred beds we can crash on, would you?”

*

All told, Veronica decided that the DC Brotherhood were handling all this very well.

She followed Elder McNamara and Paladin Hardin into the depths of the Citadel. Veronica frowned at the state of the place: from what they’d seen in the air, the Great War had hit the Capital Wasteland much harder than the Mojave and the Citadel hadn’t been spared from that. There was still wisdom and venerable technology here, but it was diminished by the War’s devastation. 

Their guide, a woman who had introduced herself as Cross, opened the door to a massive mechanical bay. Veronica pushed ahead of the others to lean over the catwalk and gawk at the gantries arranged around the empty center of the room. “Okay, I can guess this,” she said. “This room isn’t set up to handle the exhaust from a rocket launch, so it’s not a missile…what else would be so big? Oh! Some sort of military robot!”

“Santangelo. Mind yourself,” Hardin scowled. 

“She’s right, actually,” a voice from the floor called. Veronica looked down to see an elder sporting a long white beard. It looked dignified. Veronica contemplated suggesting that McNamara try to grow one, but his stern glare suggested this might not be the time. “The silo housed Liberty Prime, before it was destroyed by the Enclave.”

“Called it!” Veronica exclaimed.

“This way, please.” Cross directed them to the stairs leading down to the floor.

“Elder McNamara. I’m Owen Lyons, leader of the Capital Wastelands Brotherhood. You must be exhausted from your journey.”

“We’ve much to discuss before I rest,” McNamara responded. 

“Of course. Cross, please assist paladin…” Elder Lyons gestured to Hardin.

“Hardin, sir,” he supplied. 

“Paladin Hardin in finding accommodations for his people. And Arthur, please take Ms. Santangelo on a tour.” A young man stepped forward, maybe ten years her junior, and Veronica heard Hardin take in a sharp breath in surprise.

“Arthur? Arthur Maxson?” he asked, examining the other man’s features. “It is you, isn’t it?

Lyons cleared his throat. “His mother entrusted him to my care when we quested east.”

“And look at you now. A knight.” Hardin smiled. “I knew Jessica, son. She’d have been proud to see the man you grew into.”

“Thank you, sir,” Arthur answered. _He’s blushing!_ Veronica realized. “If there’s time later, I’d like to talk to you. About my mother.”

“Duty first, son.” Hardin and Cross headed back to the bailey and Lyons walked with McNamara towards his office, leaving Veronica and Arthur alone.

“So, you’re a Maxson, huh?” she asked as they headed for the door. 

“I am,” he replied proudly, holding open the door for her. “I write the next chapter of the legacy. But you came all the way from Nevada?” Excitement shined in Arthur’s eyes. “That must have been an incredible journey. Was there danger?”

“Plenty of danger. It’s actually what we were trying to get away from.” Veronica sighed. “Have you heard of Caesar’s Legion out here?”

“No,” Arthur said, frowning. “Are they a powerful army?”

“They might be the most powerful on the entire west coast.” Veronica followed him down the hall, and upstairs as he led the way to the roof access. “They all think they’re ancient Romans, led by a guy out to found a new Roman Empire. Which isn’t good for anyone who doesn’t like being enslaved.” They stepped out onto the Citadel’s roof, and Veronica gasped as she caught sight of the shattered remains of the Washington Monument. “And I thought the Mojave was damaged by the bombs,” she muttered to herself. “It’s so much worse here.”

“Did you fight them?”

Veronica pulled her attention away from the crumbling skyline. “Who? The Legion?” He nodded. “ _I_ did. My friends and I. We fought them east of the Colorado River, and then on the Dam, and then _west_ of the Colorado. We kept fighting right up until the New California Republic gave up and ran.”

That didn’t sit well with Arthur, she could tell. “You surrendered?”

“No, not like that. It’s just…” Veronica sat at the edge of the roof, letting her legs dangle over the side. Arthur quickly sat next to her. “The NCR might have had a chance against the Legion. But after the Grand Clusterfuck, there wasn’t enough organized resistance in the Mojave and it turned out NCR couldn’t do it on their own. They came, they saw, and they conquered the hell out of us. And there was just nothing we could do to stop them. Believe me, Clint and I tried.”

“I have a hard time believing that an entire Brotherhood Chapter couldn’t stop a bunch of Wastelanders.” Arthur scoffed. 

“Well, we were having some problems of our own.” Veronica shrugged. “McNamara decided we should just batten down the hatches and wait the Legion out, but it didn’t work. Caesar and Lanius knew there was a Brotherhood chapter somewhere in the Mojave, and they weren’t willing to leave until they found us. It took them almost four years, but they did find us. Thousands of slaves dug up all of Hidden Valley, then they just kept exploding dynamite against the bunker. Over and over, for days on end.” She shivered. “ ’85 was a really bad year.”

Arthur was listening with rapt attention. “What happened?”

“Hardin wanted to fight,” Veronica sighed. “Which was a bad idea, and I told him that. He was convinced that the Brotherhood’s superior technology would win the day, but it didn’t work when we were outnumbered a dozen to one fighting the NCR and it _definitely_ wouldn’t work being outnumbered a thousand to one by the Legion. So, I made a very convincing argument for the better part of valor.” Arthur frowned in confusion, and she clarified: “Discretion.” 

“Oh,” he said. In the distance, the Mojave airships settled on the ground and Arthur watched as the Mojave Brotherhood set foot on solid ground for the first time in weeks. “So you escaped? In a great battle?”

Veronica’s lips thinned tightly. “It was a battle, yeah. We lost dozens of people, but we got to the airships. Going west to the Lost Hills and the rest of the Brotherhood was out of the question; those airships aren’t that fast, and the Legion has just enough tech to shoot them down. So I talked McNamara into trying to carry on our original mission in a different direction; to head east and search for new technologies.”

“You’re not like any other paladins I know,” Arthur grinned.

“Aw, that’s…that might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all month,” Veronica said with a laugh. “I’m not a paladin. I’m a scribe, just…one who spent a lot of time getting shot at in the Mojave.” She clanged a fist against her armor’s metal chest. “Power armor’s good protection.”

“Isn’t that…” Veronica could see gears working in Arthur’s mind. “Isn’t that heresy? Scribes are masters of knowledge, paladins are masters of combat.”

“You know, Hardin said exactly the same thing when he was accusing me of sedition. Sometimes I think if he didn’t have McNamara keeping him leashed he’d just have me banished completely.” She kicked her heels against the side of the building. “It shouldn’t be like that. My family shouldn’t condemn me for being me.”

*

Arthur couldn’t believe just how quickly everything changed with the arrival of the Mojave chapter.

In the days following the Mojave chapter’s arrival, the Citadel was alive with activity. Arthur was everywhere in those days: overseeing the integration of Mojave equipment into their stores, familiarizing the new squads with the geography and groups in the Capital Wastelands and generally making sure that his new brothers and sisters were welcomed. 

A rare moment of rest found him on his bunk in the Lion’s Den, when a knock on the door shook him out of a snooze. He sat up to see Paladin Hardin standing at the door and leapt to his feet. “Sir, come in sir,” he said with a quick salute.

“Relax,” Hardin replied easily, seating himself in a chair across from the bed. He was without his power armor, and Arthur could see that he was a man of discipline; his body was focused and honed, and even his t-shirt seem to be pressed. “You and I haven’t had much chance to talk since we arrived, and I thought you might have some questions for me.”

“I do,” Arthur said, nodding. “You said you knew my mother.”

“I’m proud to say I did. She and Jonathan were the very soul of the Brotherhood in California, until…well…” Hardin’s voice trailed off.

Arthur recognized the look on his face. He’d seen it on any number of people as they realized they were close to telling him something they perhaps shouldn’t. “Please, sir. I know my parents died back west, and that Elder Lyons took me on the trip east to protect me.”

Hardin sighed. “And they haven’t told you any more than that?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s not right,” the paladin murmured, shaking his head. “All right. Years ago, before you were born, the Brotherhood had a crisis. Some argued that the Codex wasn’t enough anymore, that we had to change it to adapt to the times.”

Arthur shook his head. “That’s…no. The Codex is complete.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s what your mother said.” Hardin met Arthur’s eyes. “A sickness took in the Brotherhood. They called it ‘progressivism,’ but the only thing it progressed was our own corruption. When she spoke out against it, they threatened her. Things became…heated. Your mother entrusted you to Elder Lyons to protect you from the battle that was coming, though now that I can see Lyon’s chapter with my own eyes I worry that their trust was betrayed.”

“Elder Lyons is no traitor, sir,” Arthur shot back quickly.

“No?” Hardin snorted. “I’ve seen your bailey. Lyons has recruited Wastelanders into the chapter! Used our resources on useless frivolities instead of following our mission to preserve technology.”

Arthur turned that over in his mind. _It’s true that Elder Lyon’s actions haven’t always been in keeping with the Codex… ___

__“And worse, those who stood by their sacred duty were cast out.” Hardin rubbed his brow. “I don’t celebrate your mother’s death, but I’m glad she didn’t see it come to this.”_ _

__“What happened to them?” Arthur asked quietly._ _

__“What you’d expect. Her reasoned arguments were met with rabid anger. It was inevitable that eventually one of the progressives would act out. The civil war was short, by the time it was over Jessica had been murdered for defending her beliefs.” Hardin scowled. “We wiped out the iconoclasts in Lost Hills, but I fear they’ve continued to fester in other chapters.”_ _

__“Scribe Santangelo mentioned that you and she, uh, disagree.”_ _

__Hardin laughed. “Did she now? Veronica’s not a bad girl. She has a good heart, and she keeps her invertedness to herself. I do worry that Elder Elijah corrupted her thoughts before he fled.”_ _

___Inver- oh!_ Arthur startled with realization. He felt a flush starting up his collar. _She sat right beside me and I had no idea._ “I think she can still be useful, sir. You’re right about the trouble between Elder Lyons and the Outcasts; I think that he and your Elder McNamara were right to send her to them as an envoy. A fresh face might be what we need to bring everyone back together.”_ _

__“I hope you’re right, son. I really do.” Hardin nodded. “Remember to be wary of iconoclasts, Arthur. What is the Brotherhood if we ignore our duty?”_ _

____

*

Veronica stood before a crude statue, examining the workmanship. It roughly described the shape of a person and something that might have been a gecko, posed heroically. “It’s the Wanderer,” one of the locals told her with a tone suggesting that she was crazy for not knowing. “She defeated the Enclave and brought fresh water to the Wasteland.”

“Sounds like a hell of a lady,” Veronica mused. _If this was New Vegas, this statue would be all done up in neon. Something to be said for the understated look._

She made her way westward, towards the run-down ruin the Outcasts occupied. “Fort Independence,” she whistled. “You all are just so proud of doing you own thing, aren’t you?” She spotted sentries patrolling the parameter and waved to them, making her way towards the ruin with her hands held out away from her body. “Hi there!”

“Get on the fucking ground!”

“Sure! No problem!” Veronica called back with false cheer. She knelt, and the red and black armored guards encircled her, weapons drawn. 

“Lyons send you?” one of them snarled.

“Yes. Kind of. I’m from Nevada. I was sent to talk with you all about reunifying the Brotherhood.”

The Outcast guards shared a look over her head. _Huh. They’re interested._

Eventually, one of them spoke. “Get that armor off. Casdin can decide what to do with you.” 

“No problem.” Despite her words, getting out of her armor on her own was always trouble. _Easier when ‘Squire’ Gannon helped out,_ she thought wistfully. It took a few minutes, but soon she stood before them in a thin tank top and shorts, her hair covered with a kerchief. “Well, this is all of me.”

The Outcast guards led her inside, and left her in a small room empty but for a lone chair. Veronica shrugged and sat, settling in to wait.

It was about ten minutes -just long enough for the cold of the room to thoroughly seep into her bare skin- before the door opened again, admitting to figures in power armor. Veronica stood, and offered her hand to the man who entered first. “Hi! I’m guessing you’re Paladin Casdin.”

He ignored her hand with a glare. “You have power armor, and I don’t recognize you.”

“I’m not from around here,” Veronica answered easily.

“Lay off a bit, Henry,” the woman interrupted. “She’s probably with the airships that arrived a few days ago. Aren’t I right?”

_Ooh! Are we going to play good cop/bad cop?_ “You are. I’m Veronica Santangelo.” The woman regarded her appraisingly, and Veronica fought the urge to hide from her gaze. _This is not the outfit I would have picked if I’d known I was going to meet a pretty lady,_ she thought. 

The woman nodded. “Sarah Lyons.”

“So why are you here?” Casdin demanded.

“Well, we were planning a big party and figured you’d all be mad if we left you out,” Veronica retorted. Lyons and Casdin glanced at each other, and Veronica sighed. “No, that’s…sorry. I’m not very good at this diplomacy thing. Look, you want the short, honest version? There isn’t enough of the Brotherhood left to keep up this bickering. We’re great at schisming, but we’re actually pretty bad at reconciling.” She looked at Sarah. “Let me ask you, how are you guys doing out here? You doing a good job preserving technology?”

“We’re limited by our numbers,” Casdin replied, “and by Lyon’s interference.”

“Right. There’s too few of you to actually do your duty and keep to the Codex, so instead you…?” Veronica grasped at the air, feeling for suggestions. “Shoot locals who wander by? Play Caravan all day? Look, my chapter holed up in our bunker for _years,_ same as you are now. It poisoned us.”

Sarah cleared her throat. “With an entire other chapter…Henry, with that many paladins we can pursue both our duty to the Codex and the Lyons Doctrine.” 

“Wasting time on the local wildlife _contradicts_ the Codex, Sarah,” Casdin snapped. 

“And it might be the price we have to pay to do what we need to.” Sarah shot back. “There’s still so much technology out there, and the Outcasts can’t do a damn thing to secure any of it on our own.”

_He really, really doesn’t like this,_ Veronica realized. _He hates being useless, but he also hates Elder Lyon’s chapter._

“This isn’t a discussion to have in front of her,” Casdin decided eventually. “See her out and we’ll continue this.”

He left with that. Sarah had Veronica’s power armor brought to her, and politely looked away as the other woman dressed. “You painted your armor red,” Sarah observed.

“Actually, _my_ armor is maroon,” Veronica said, fixing her gauntlets in place.

“Are you an outcast from your chapter?”

Veronica chuckled at that. “A little bit, I guess. But that’s family, right? Everyone’s a little different, but you still love each other.”

Sarah led Veronica outside, and beyond the Outcast’s perimeter. Veronica stopped her with a touch. “Look, I know Casdin is making a show of being big and angry and whatever else. But Elder Lyons is serious about this. So’s McNamara. _I’m_ serious. We’re only going to whittle ourselves down to nothing if we keep going the way we are.”

“Come back in a few days,” Sarah said. “We’ll talk more then.”

*

After talking with Hardin, Arthur was wary of Veronica. Despite that, Elder Lyons left very specific orders to make an effort to welcome the Mojave Brotherhood, and Arthur would not let it be said that he shirked an order. So, he’d made an invitation and that was that.

“I cannot believe you invited a stranger into my Vault without consulting with me first, Arthur,” Amata scowled. 

He’d expected Amata to be thrilled to have a guest, but now standing in their quarters she looked at him with a profoundly irritated expression. “I invited her to my home. Elder Lyons wanted me to get to know her better.”

“Elder _Lyons_ isn’t in charge here,” Amata snapped. He’d hoped to find her in a better mood when he told her about dinner plans, but the half-empty bottle sitting on the dining room table told him that wasn’t going to happen. “God, but you can just be so…!” Arthur gritted his teeth, waiting for her to finish, but she just shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it. You need to get cleaned up and I need to get dinner together, apparently.”

Shaking his head, Arthur made his way to the bathroom. He stripped down and stepped in the shower, letting the water cascade down over him. _I wish she wasn’t such an asshole,_ he thought angrily. _People talk about how her father was a monster when he was Overseer. Maybe it’s just genetic._

He emerged from the shower clean and relaxed. Just a few years ago wasting so much water would be unthinkable, but thanks to the Brotherhood’s support of Project Purity it was now a simple luxury. He’d just slipped into his off-duty clothes when he heard the intercom chime. Amata answered tersely, then shouted “She’s coming.”

There was a knock on the door a moment later, and Arthur hurried to answer it. Veronica stood outside, flanked by Vault security. “Hi there!” she said, offering a bound package. “Here, host gift.” 

Arthur motioned her inside, pulled open the wrapping. It fell away, revealing three bottles of orange liquid. “What is it?”

“Sunset Sarsaparilla. I heard that you all don’t have it out east, and you just have to try it.” Veronica extended her hand to Amata. “Thank you for having me over, Mrs. Maxson.”

“Amata will do,” was all the reply she got.

“It’s a lovely Vault you have here,” Veronica offered. “I’ve been to a couple in my day, and I have to say this one seems to be the best-kept I’ve seen.”

Arthur thought for a moment Amata would say something snide -she always did when he tried to talk to her about the Vault- but if anything she seemed to thaw a bit. “That’s kind of you. Please, sit. I’ll have dinner out in a moment.”

“Yes, please, have a seat.” Arthur sat with her, opening the bottle and taking a long draw. “Wow! This stuff is great!” 

Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw Amata try her own Sarsaparilla, shrug, and fill it up the rest of the way from a different bottle. “I have to say, I was happy to hear about your chapter’s arrival,” she said. “A strong Brotherhood means a strong wasteland.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Veronica said. “Elder Lyons seems to have gone out of his way to bring everyone together.”

“We all made our own efforts for peace and security,” Amata answered with a tight smile.

“So I take it you agree with Elder Lyons?” Arthur asked Veronica.

“What, the whole ‘Lyons Doctrine’ thing? Using the Brotherhood to help people? Sure.” Veronica shrugged. “We’ve got to live in this world, don’t we? We can do so much good with the technology we stockpile.”

_She’s just like Hardin said._ “Sounds downright…progressive.” 

Veronica watched him carefully. “Yeah, that’s one of the nicer things I’ve been called. Look, you’ve obviously already talked with some of the Mojave paladins. Let me ask you, what’s so wrong with helping other people out? The situation isn’t now what it was when your great-great-whatever founded the Brotherhood. Back then they honestly thought if they didn’t act decisively, all human progress would be lost forever. But look around now.” Veronica opened her arms. “The New California Republic reinvented democracy and agriculture. Out here there’s that Project Purity thing; so high-tech it’s practically magic, and it’s not old world tech at all! Circumstances have changed, mission needs to change.”

Arthur shook his head. “We draw strength from our doctrine. The Codex says that each one of us needs to do our duty.”

“Right, but what’s our duty? Should we have to go to war with the NCR because the Codex says we don’t negotiate over technology? Should we have to get married and have children even if we don’t want to because obligation demands it?”

“Yes,” Amata intoned, taking a swig from her bottle.

“But _duty_ ,” Arthur replied. 

“I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be protecting technology. But we have a duty to be decent to each other, too. We’re choking to death on our own orthodoxy.”

_She would say that, if she’s trying to avoid her duty. What does that make her, then?_ “Well, I certainly respect your right to have your beliefs,” Arthur said. “And I’m sure in time we could discuss adding to the Codex. You just have to be patient. We have doctrine for a reason, and trying to change the way things are too quickly is dangerous!”

“Oh, yeah. Just be patient, everything will be fine. We have to keep doing things the way we’ve always done them, and if you don’t like it then it must just be you.” Veronica shrugged. “You ask me, tradition is a big reason why nothing ever changes.”

*

Veronica learned quickly that dealing with Casdin was a lot like dealing with Hardin and the other hard-line paladins in the Hidden Valley bunker. First he blustered about duty and honoring the Codex, and Veronica agreed entirely. Then he objected to the idea of expending resources on ‘the undeserving,’ and she countered with _Well what the hell are we supposed to do with them? Polish them all every day and bask in their presence?_ After _that_ he called her a variety of names, and when she ignored all that he eventually settled down and they could get to actually discussing the idea of reunification.

Talking with him was utterly exhausting, and Veronica came to appreciate the chance to get up to the roof of Fort Independence with Sarah. If she was still playing the role of good cop, she was doing a great job of it. 

“Everything seems kind of _green_ here,” Veronica mused.

“You get used to it,” Sarah replied with a shrug. She watched the other woman out of the corner of her eye. “Why are you really doing this? You said you’re trying to help your family, but the Outcasts…we’re not your family.”

“I dunno, I was just starting to think of you as my weird cousins I only see at Christmas and funerals.” Sarah said nothing, and Veronica sighed. “I had a friend back in the Mojave. Clint. He didn’t agree with me about the Brotherhood at all; he had this attitude that if someone doesn’t like you, they can go hang.”

“Sounds like a smart man.”

“Right, but see, it was easy for him to say because he never had anyone he cared about enough to stick with when times got tough. I traveled with him for a good while through thick and thin, but I have no doubt that that if he and I came to odds he would have left me behind in a heartbeat.” Veronica stared out over the Capital Wasteland. “But me? The Mojave chapter is my family. I care about them. Even after they ran off my girlfriend, I still _care_ about them.”

Sarah frowned at that. “Ran her off?”

“Oh, yeah. Can’t be gay in the Brotherhood. Have to do our duty, create the next generation and all that.” Veronica shrugged. “They dangled a mission she couldn’t resist in front of her and she was just gone. Never saw her again. What can I say? Fanatical obsession with duty is hot, I guess.”

“Couldn’t say,” Sarah, replied quietly. “I’ve never, well…” she trailed off.

“…dated a woman?” Veronica supplied.

“Dated,” Sarah allowed.

_Fair enough. Didn’t call me an invert, which is better than most of the people I know._ “Look. What I’m saying here is that I can _see_ the end of this stupid self-destructive course we’re on, and it’s not a happy end. Mojave chapter, Capital Wastelands chapter, Outcasts…sooner or later, we’re all going to fade away. I’m trying to save us.” She kicked a piece of rubble off the edge of the roof. “Even Melissa Watkins.”

The stood in silence for a bit, before Veronica ventured: “Why are you thinking of agreeing to reunification?”

“Family.” Sarah answered simply. 

“Oh, come on. I already used ‘family’ and I did a way better job with it.”

“My father banished me after I tried…he was going to have Arthur married off to a Vault woman.” Sarah shook her head. “It was just…unthinkable. I tried to save him from it. Failed, obviously.”

“Wow,” Veronica said. “So maybe if the Capital chapter accepts the Outcasts back, your dad will accept you back?”

“It’s nice to think about.”

Sarah looked so profoundly _sad_ in that moment that Veronica found herself laying her arm across the other woman’s shoulders. “It’ll be all right.”

“I miss my family,” Sarah whispered.

“Look, I know about people who don’t agree with who you are and what you do. But we can’t give up!” Veronica said. “Yeah, okay, things didn’t go right. But family loves, right? Family forgives.”

*

Talon Company struck again, at Canterbury Commons, but this time the Brotherhood was ready. One of the Mojave airships spotted them from above, and was able to provide the direction they fled in. It only took a few moments examining a map of the Wasteland to determine where they’d been hiding: Fort Bannister.

Arthur’s forces assembled at the Jury street metro station. Elder Lyons had entrusted the mission to him personally, and he could already foresee the glory of stomping out Talon Company once and for all. His squad was three paladins from the Capital and Mojave chapters, armed with a collection of laser weapons. Hardin had volunteered, and Arthur was honored that the older paladin placed himself under Arthur’s command and glad to have the man’s experience. 

“You all know this already, but I’ll say it again for emphasis,” Arthur said, summoning his best ‘gunny voice.’ “Talon Company are formidable enemies. Better equipped than raiders, better coordinated too. But we’re Brotherhood. They use ballistic guns and explosives, but our armor should be strong against them.” _Make eye contact with each one in turn. They’ll trust you more if you do that._ “Our estimates are that they have at least twenty soldiers. I figure five to one might make the battle _almost_ even.”

“Mind your confidence, Brother Maxson,” a voice called behind him. Arthur turned to see two figures in red and black power armor. They removed their helmets, and Arthur gasped. “Paladin Casdin, and…Sarah…!”

“Hello, Arthur,” Sarah replied with a wane smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“The Outcasts make a point to be aware of comings and goings around the Citadel,” Casdin answered. “When we saw a squad heading north, we thought we might be of some help.”

_Wow! As recently as a few weeks ago, the Outcasts would have shot at any Brotherhood patrol they saw. Now they’re coming to help us out? Veronica must have been a better envoy than anyone thought._ “I’d be glad to have you along.”

Hardin nodded to Casdin and Sarah. “Paladin Hardin, of the Mojave chapter.”

Casdin introduced himself, but Arthur tuned him out as Sarah approached. “How are you?” she asked, her hands checking the seals and fasteners of his armor, making sure each was secure. “Are they feeding you well in that Vault?”

“I really don’t live in the Vault often,” he muttered, squirming under her attentions. _They won’t take me seriously if you’re treating me like a child!_

“That’s for the best,” she said quietly. “I’m glad. I really am.”

“Right, well…” Arthur coughed. “We should see to Talon Company.”

“Of course.” Sarah readied her laser rifle. “What’s the plan then? Quiet or loud?”

“The Codex indicates that when facing an inferior foe and their need to defend a set location precludes their ability to retreat, overwhelming force is most appropriate.” Arthur nodded. “With you and Casdin, we are six and six paladins is the definition of overwhelming force.”

“Very good,” she said with a tight smile. “Lead the way.” 

They made their way up the rise to Fort Bannister, and Arthur grinned to himself as he heard the Talon sentry called out an alarm. “Stepford, Glade, lay down suppressing fire with gatling lasers. The rest of us will assault their positions. Remember, I want survivors to interrogate.”

The chain-link fence melted against Arthur’s blast of laser energy, and he charged through the breech. Sarah and Hardin kept pace right behind him as the Talon’s reprisal thudded against his armor. An instant later Stepford and Glade opened fire, pinning the mercenaries behind their cover. Heedless, Arthur threw himself over that cover, crushing one man under his armor’s bulk and opening fire on another at point-blank range. The Talons took advantage of his exposed position and began volleying bullets at him. To his surprise Arthur realized he could feel his armor shudder worryingly under the onslaught.

“Arthur!” A blur of black and red; Sarah imposed herself between Arthur and the mercenaries. He leaned around her, burning down one of the Talons. The other paladins caught up to Arthur’s charge, gunning down the Talons now exposed. “You’re twenty-one, not invincible,” Sarah snapped. “Keep your wits about you!”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured. _What is it about Sarah admonishing me that makes it feel so horrible? _“But it worked.”__

__“That doesn’t matter if you die.” Sarah helped him to his feet._ _

__The Talon mercenaries outside were dead and smoldering, and Arthur pointed to one of the buildings. “That looks like a command bunker to me.”_ _

__“Good eye, son,” Hardin said. “Let’s get in there.”_ _

__Stepford took point as they entered the bunker. All was quiet as they descended the stairs, guns sweeping to check doorways as they passed. Stepford kicked in the last door, shouting “Weapon down! Drop it!” Arthur hurried in after him. Inside, a lone Talon merc stood scowling, hands in the air._ _

__“You look like a man who knows what’s going on,” Arthur said with feigned nonchalance. “Tell me what you know and this can go easy for you.”_ _

__“You’ve been watching too many holotapes, kid,” the merc snapped. “What I know is that you can go and fu-”_ _

__He cut off with a scream as Hardin’s laser burned a hole into his leg. The merc fell to the ground with a cry even as Arthur jolted back in surprise. “Geez, was that really…?”_ _

__“Yes,” Sarah interrupted. She crouched next to the man. “I’d like to know why you’re making my life difficult,” she intoned to the man. “But we don’t have to be uncivilized about it. My name is Sarah Lyons. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”_ _

__“You’re the useless bitch who’s been slumming it with the Outcasts,” the man smirked through his pain. “Seems like you all got a nice big reunion going on here, huh?”_ _

__Sarah smiled, and it didn’t reach her eyes at all. _That’s…that’s terrifying,_ Arthur thought. She towered over the merc. “There are two ways of doing this. Talk to me, tell me what I want to know, and I’ll put serious thought towards letting you go free.”_ _

__“And…the other option?”_ _

__Casdin answered that. “My new friend here keeps shooting you until you stop wasting our time.”_ _

__The man’s wide eyes slide towards Hardin’s rifle. “What do you want to know?”_ _

__“You haven’t introduced yourself.”_ _

__“Jabsco. Commander Jabsco.”_ _

__“You’re a mercenary,” Arthur found his voice. “Who hired you?_ _

__Jabsco hesitated and Sarah stood back, clearing Hardin’s line of fire. “Ah! Fuck! Fine! We’re not…we’re not mercs. Talon is the second company in the special operations battalion.”_ _

__“Who the hell out east has a big enough military to have a special operations _battalion?_ ” Hardin muttered._ _

__Sarah seized the front of Jabsco’s armor, dragging him close to her helmet visor. “I swear, if you’re with the Enclave you will take a very, very long time to die.”_ _

__“Enclave?” Jabsco laughed out loud at that. “Are you _still_ fucking scared of them? You assholes have no idea what’s out there, do you? You think a bunch of patriotic has-beens are your biggest problem?” Jabsco choked, spittle foaming at his lips. “I wish I could see the looks on your faces when they get here.” He convulsed, and laid still. _ _

__“What was that?” Arthur gasped._ _

__“Cyanide pill,” Hardin grumbled. “Who was he talking about? ‘When they get here.’”_ _

__“No idea,” Arthur replied. “But…not Enclave. That’s good, right?”_ _

__They made their way back outside, and began the march back to the Citadel. “At least we did some good here,” Arthur said. “No more Talon attacks on the water shipments.”_ _

__“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sarah admonished. “Talon Company is organized and aggressive. Taking out one base, even their main base, isn’t going to put an end to them.”_ _

__“I still don’t understand why the Brotherhood is distributing water to the Wastelanders at all,” Hardin said. “Or for that matter why we’re not in direct control over the technology that’s creating it.”_ _

__“That’s one of the big questions that the Outcasts split over,” Casdin agreed. “The old man will say that it’s our duty to protect the innocent, as if there are any innocents out here.”_ _

__“Well, maybe it’s something to think about,” Arthur spoke up. “I mean, we have so much and everyone else has so little…” he trailed off as the other paladins turned to him with quizzical expressions._ _

__“Arthur is young yet,” Sarah said, drawing the older paladins’ attention to herself. “He’s idealistic.”_ _

__“Yes, but which ideals?” Hardin asked._ _

__Stepford leaned towards Arthur. “If it helps any, sir, I agree with you,” he said quietly._ _

__Arthur tried again. “Maybe we need to adapt to meet the new situations we’re living in, is all...”_ _

__“That will be enough, Arthur,” Sarah said quickly._ _

__“Uh…right. Okay.” Arthur shut up at that. The trip back to the Citadel was filled with a very loud silence._ _

____

*

There were risks that a member of the Brotherhood took. Some of them were obvious; fighting super mutants or Legionnaires or the like. Others were more cerebral, like entering a battle of wits against Pre-War security system and the fully-charged laser turrets it controlled.

Then there were those risks that were more personal, and a hell of a lot more dangerous.

Veronica sat on a bar stool in the Muddy Rudder, hidden away in the bowels of Rivet City. It wasn’t the worst place she’d ever had a drink. Traveling with Cass and Clint had introduced her to all sorts of strange and horrible places. Thanks to them she shared drinks with tribals, NCR officers, Enclave octogenarians and on one _extremely awkward_ night, a robot who explained to her repeatedly and at length that it was “programmed for her pleasure.” This place felt more dangerous than all of them, though.

She squirmed in her seat, smoothing out her dress. The market upstairs had everything, even a smart little bonnet to keep her hair hidden away. There was no place for fineries in the bunker; everyone had their robes, armor or off-duty casuals, and wore them according to their role at the moment. Veronica was fairly certain that cotton and polyester were the only fabrics anyone had _ever_ worn down there. Traipsing around the Mojave wasn’t much better what with the sand, sweat, and occasional attacks by whoever wanted to murder them today. Sometimes though, it was nice to just be able to dress up in something pretty and _completely_ impractical. When she was wearing a nice dress, no one thought of her as a quasi-heretical scribe or a wannabe-paladin. She could just be a woman for once.

Hence the danger.

“I’m surprised you even know this place.” Veronica turned on her stool to watch Sarah approach. The other woman was without her power armor for once, but seemed no less powerful for it. Her eyes swept the Muddy Rudder, flicking between the bartender, the bouncer, and the drunk in the corner wearing a Vault jumpsuit and a leather jacket before settling on Veronica.

“Well, not that I mind being stripped down to my unmentionables every time I see you, but I thought this might be a nice place for us to talk and for me to _not_ catch pneumonia.” Veronica motioned to the bartender for a drink for Sarah.

“It’s a nice dress,” Sarah allowed.

“Thanks! It’s, ah, vintage.” Sarah accepted the drink, some kind of bilgewater booze, with ill grace but sipped it anyway. She didn’t say anything, and Veronica pressed on nervously. “Had a friend of mine who used to make her own moonshine. Arcade always said it’d strike us all blind.” She chuckled, then thought a minute. “Actually, Cass making her own alcohol probably should have been a dead giveaway that she might have had a problem with drinking.”

Sarah looked over to her. “You talk about your friends a lot.”

“Well, friends are just family you get to choose, right? I miss them. It all went to hell after the Grand Clusterfuck. So many people dead, and Clint and Cass just not the same after.” Veronica forced a smile. “Here I am asking you out for drinks and all I do is talk about troubles. Sorry. I promise I’m usually not so morose.”

“Is Cass the girlfriend you mentioned?” Sarah asked. “The one who was run off?”

“Cass? No. Oh no. She was a sister to me, through and through. An overly-protective, madder-than-a-radscorpion older sister.”

Sarah toyed with her glass, rolling the bottom across the bar. “Tell me about her.”

“Cass?”

“The girlfriend.”

“Oh! Okay. Well…” Veronica thought for a moment. “Her name was Christine. She was _funny,_ like, funny enough to have you just rolling on the ground. Sometimes she and I’d just sit there and she’d just tell me jokes ‘til I howled. At first we’d just hang out a bit after duties, then it became more than just a bit…then we were inseparable. Like, seriously, all the time. I even let her play with my hair.”

“Can’t really imagine that, what with your collection of hats, scarves and handkerchiefs,” Sarah observed drily, eying the wide-brimmed hat perched on Veronica’s head. 

Veronica grinned. “Hey, a girl’s got to have some modesty, right?”

“Let me see.”

She hesitated at that, trying to parse Sarah’s tone. _Authority, amusement, curiosity…interest?_ Wordlessly, Veronica lifted the hat, resting it on her lap. Sarah reached out, running her fingers through the other woman’s short, dark hair and Veronica fought to keep herself from leaning into the touch. “Look,” she murmured. “I’m having a hard time getting a read on you, all right? But I…I think you’re picking up what I’m putting down here. So I’m gonna risk doing something stupid.” 

This time she did lean forward, pressing her lips against Sarah’s. The other woman was still for a moment, then the fingers in Veronica’s hair tightened and drew her close. Their kiss deepened until Veronica had to come up for air. _Still got it,_ she thought triumphantly. 

It was a feeling that lasted only until she saw Sarah’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not one of those,” Sarah muttered. “There’s duty to the Brotherhood that can’t be fulfilled if I’m…if I’m an…”

“An invert?” Veronica offered, harsher than she meant but not minding. “I’m having some trouble with this. Because you don’t kiss girls like somebody who doesn’t like kissing girls.” Sarah scowled at that, but Veronica pushed on. “Duty to the Brotherhood is great, but it doesn’t have to be absolutely everything. I think we just have to admit that there are some things the Codex fails at, all right? Great for military doctrine, not exactly a document written with an eye towards equality and personal liberties.”

Sarah shook her head, standing. “The Codex hasn’t failed. We’ve failed the Codex.”

_Oh to hell with that,_ Veronica thought angrily. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions here. There’s a happy middle ground between ignoring each other and the end of the Brotherhood as we know it.”

“I don’t need to think about my duty,” Sarah replied, rising to leave. “Thanks for the drink.”

*

Arthur didn’t know how she’d done it, but Veronica was clearly a miracle worker of negotiation.

After little more than a week, the Outcasts sent her back to the Citadel with a message: Casdin wanted to meet with Elder Lyons. Though he tried to hide it, Arthur could see just how happy that made the Elder. He shared the feeling; seeing Sarah again, even if only for a few hours reminded him of just how much he missed her. It wasn’t right that circumstance forced her to go like that.

“More than ten years of hostilities, and now finally a chance to reconcile,” Arthur enthused as they left through the Citadel’s front gate and entered the darkness of the pre-dawn Wasteland. “The Mojave chapter’s arrival was a game-changer.”

“Indeed,” Elder Lyons agreed. He walked beside Elder McNamara, their slow pace forcing the entire group to move at a crawl. The Elders had spent considerable time discussing the Outcast’s offer, but in the end there was no question as to their course of action. As Veronica reminded them, family needed to stay together.

At Elder Lyons’ request, Amata had agreed to come along. _Reluctantly, the same way she does everything._ The Elder’s idea was a great one; everyone wanted the Outcasts to rejoin the fold, but it was important that they knew the rules had changed and the Brotherhood was integrated with the Wastelanders. _First thing I do after all this is settled is invite Sarah to the Vault for dinner. I don’t think she and Amata really knew each other, and I want us all to be close. I think they’ll really like each other._

“I’m honored you brought me to this summit,” Arthur said eagerly. “What role am I to play? How can I help?”

“Your role is one of observer,” Elder Lyons said quietly. “I understand your enthusiasm, Arthur, but the situation is still tenuous. There is considerable bad blood between ourselves and the Outcasts. Many things said…many things said that cannot be taken back.” 

“Family forgives,” Veronica offered. _She looks as irritated as Amata,_ Arthur decided. _Probably not a morning person._ Her customized power armor was in fine shape, and Arthur found himself eying the power fists with something close to jealousy.

“Stay with Paladin Cross and Veronica,” Elder Lyons ordered. “Elder McNamara and I will handle the discussion.”

They made the trip to Andale in the best time they could, all things considered. The sun hung high in the sky when they finally reached the run-down town. Years ago, Andale had been home to several families of cannibals before Jackson’s hit squads drafted or killed all of them. Even with the families gone, Wastelanders avoided the town with an almost superstitious fear. Arthur had heard people saying that the place was cursed, but having seen so much he knew that the whole idea of curses was nothing more than scared people being superstitious.

A host of Outcast paladins stood guard outside one of the less run-down houses. Cross, Arthur and Veronica moved ahead to greet them. 

“Hey, Casdin,” Veronica called out. The man nodded as they approached, and Arthur realized his hand was clenching involuntarily; he’d forgotten just how _intimidating_ Casdin was in his armor.

Cross, as always, was unperturbed. “Brother Casdin,” 

“Sister Cross,” he replied. “I’m glad to see you still well. I trust your augmentations haven’t failed you?”

“Quite the opposite.” Cross was never one for small talk, and she pressed on. “Yourself, Sentinel Lyons, four honor guard. The Elders, myself, Hardin, Arthur, and Amata Maxson. No more.”

“Cautious as always,” Casdin said with a smile. “I agree to yourself, Hardin and Maxson, but this is Brotherhood business. The Vault-dweller has no place here.”

“My wife,” Arthur said, with all his authority, “is part of the coalition we’ve built in the Wasteland. She is important.”

Casdin scowled at that, but Veronica interceded. “Come on, Casdin. You going to let one Vaultie be the roadblock here? You don’t even care what she thinks.”

“True enough,” he agreed. “Fine. That five, everyone else stays outside with my Outcasts.”

Cross turned back, motioning the Elders and Amata to approach. As they neared, Cadin offered as deep a bow as his armor would allow. “Elder Lyons.”

“Paladin Casdin. Shall we enter?”

Arthur, Cross and Hardin moved into the building first, eyes attentive for any ambush. “Have fun,” Veronica whispered as Arthur passed. “Don’t screw it up.” Sarah greeted them in the living room, and waited as they searched the room for traps. Satisfied, Cross motioned the Elders and Amata inside. The Outcasts had found some furniture sturdy enough to support power armor and arranged the couches in a rough circle. Elders Lyons and McNamara took one, while Sarah and Casdin sat another and Arthur and Amata claimed the last one. Cross, Hardin and the Outcast honor guard stood.

“Sarah,” Elder Lyons said softly. “It’s good to see you.”

She nodded. “You, too.”

“Your Veronica is a persuasive woman,” Casdin said, addressing McNamera. “If someone told me that we would ever be sitting down with the old man…”

“She’s certainly a forceful personality,” McNamara allowed.

“Veritable credit to her chapter,” Hardin rumbled. Arthur couldn’t be sure, but that almost sounded like sarcasm. 

“And you, Overseer,” Casdin continued. “I didn’t anticipate your presence, but since you’re here I’d like you to feel welcome. I treated you harshly in the past, and I want you to know that I harbor no ill will towards yourself or your people.”

Amata raised her chin. “I’ve had plenty of time to recover from your harshness, Paladin Casdin. A unified Brotherhood strengthens the Wasteland, and that is what I’m interested in.”

“Good.” Casdin leaned forward. “Elder Lyons. I want you to know that I respect you. I always have, though your…interpretation…of the Codex is unorthodox at best. The Outcasts don’t approve of your Doctrine of expending resources helping the Wastelanders, but that is what it is. We haven’t been able to carry out the operations we should be with our limited numbers, and, well…”

His voice trailed off to silence, and after a long moment Sarah spoke up. “We want to come home.”

“I would welcome you back,” Elder Lyons said. “But you have to know. Both of you. The Wasteland relies on the Brotherhood. It is our presence that keeps the different terrors at bay. We cannot abandon these people.” Casdin’s expression hardened, but Lyons continued. “However. Our brothers in the Mojave chapter provide us with new options. Combining our numbers means that we will be able to do more than we hav-”

Cross’s whipped around towards the wall behind her, and an instant later Arthur heard the distinct _fwoosh_ of a rocket. He had barely enough time to throw himself across Amata when the wall exploded, sending shrapnel, furniture and people flying. 

_Ambush!_ Arthur pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the ringing in his ears. He took to his feet, trying to make sense of what he saw; Amata scrambling away to cover, Sarah tending to the Elders, Cross lying dead on the ground, her face a mangled wreck of blood and bone. _Betrayal?_ Arthur wondered, readying his weapon. He couldn’t believe that; Casdin and Hardin had turned to fire at a target outside the building, and the idea of Sarah attacking her own father was incomprehensible. 

Arthur threw himself behind a section of ruined wall, sighting his laser rifle at the speck in the distance Casdin and Hardin were firing at. He could barely make out the distinctive black armor as he pulled the trigger. _Talon Company,_ he thought with a snarl. _They’re worse than radroaches._ He saw motion to his left: Veronica in her red power armor, charging into a volley of Talon fire to reach the mercenary position. “Covering fire!” Arthur screamed, deaf even to his own words.

A moment later Veronica reached down and threw the mercenary out of his cover. He tumbled a dozen feet and tried to produce a grenade, but she was on him quick. A hammer blow from her power fist put the man down and she seized his ankle, dragging him back to the house. Arthur rose and started out to meet her, but at the moment the ringing in his ears changed pitch. It took him a moment for Arthur to realize it wasn’t ringing.

Sarah was _screaming._

“ _Dad! No!_ ” Arthur felt the blood drain out of him as he turned. Elder Lyons lay on the ground and now that he looked closely he realized that there was languidness to his pose that no living person possessed. 

“Oh no,” Arthur whispered. “They were…they were closest to the explosion…”

“McNamara too.” Hardin knelt next to his Elder. “I thought your Outcasts secured this location!”

“Not well enough, it seems.” Casdin placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, feebly attempting to console her. “We can grieve later. We have a situation to tend to now.”

Veronica reached the house and tossed the man through the hole in the wall. “Only one of him, but well-armed. Buncha rockets. These the same bastards you guys cleared out of Fort Bannister?” She stepped in after him, and caught sight of Lyons and McNamara on the floor. Her face paled as she looked between Hardin and Casdin, but Arthur couldn’t imagine what about the two of them scared her any worse than the deaths of the Elders.

“I think,” Casdin intoned, “that it has been everyone’s intention to reunify the Brotherhood.”

“Agreed entirely,” Hardin said. Sarah nodded mutely, crossing the room to pull down a length of rotted curtain and laying it across her father’s body.

_Oh my God,_ Arthur realized. _In our darkest hour, the Brotherhood calls out for a leader. This is my moment, the moment a Maxson is made for._ He took a breath. “It is our duty to ensure that we carry out our mission here both in the Codex and the Lyons Doctrine, even amidst this turmoil. Brothers…” he extended his hand to the older paladins. “The Maxson line has been the strong steel of the Brotherhood since its inception. Follow me now.”

He didn’t know what he expected; oaths of fealty or something of that sort. It was not what he received.

“He’s right about the turmoil,” Hardin allowed, speaking to Casdin. “But times of turmoil are when we need to stay the course. The Codex provides.”

Casdin nodded. “That it does.”

_They’re…ignoring me?_ Arthur’s hand hung in the air, ignored. He looked around in confusion, and noticed Veronica making her way carefully around the edge of the room to reach Amata.

“There are going to be a lot of people in the Citadel who will disagree,” Casdin continued. 

Hardin snapped: “Iconoclasts have been nothing but poisonous to the Brotherhood. This is a time of consolidation, and if we have to do that through charges of heresy then I say it’s long overdue.” 

Sarah seemed to be coming to her senses. “What are you talking about, Hardin?”

“We’re not going on witch hunts,” Arthur said. “Can’t you hear what you’re saying?”

“You talked to him, didn’t you Veronica?” Hardin asked. He looked almost _sad,_ which didn’t fit with the menace Arthur felt from him.

“Hardin. Listen to me.” Veronica positioned her armored form between the paladins and Amata. “Heresy trials…it’s going too far. You know there’s only one verdict.”

“We should have put you, your girlfriend and Elijah on trial years ago. If we’d done that, maybe McNamara wouldn’t have been corrupted by your damned progressivism.” Hardin leveled his weapon at Veronica’s exposed face. “Come along quietly now. I give you my word the trial will be as quick as it can be.”

“Right,” Veronica snarled. “And once you’ve scared everyone in the Brotherhood into line, then what? Sending the Overseer back to her Vault in a box to make sure they know their place?”

Casdin answered. “I don’t see the Vault having a place in the Brotherhood’s Wasteland.”

“ _You will not threaten my wife!_ ” Arthur shouted. He realized his rifle was aimed at Casdin, and he quavered. “I mean…I am _Arthur Maxson,_ and I say-”

“So glad your mother didn’t live to see this,” Hardin muttered.

A flash of movement from his right, and Veronica barreled into Arthur. A blast of electric blue energy surged over Casdin and Hardin’s power armor, sending them to the ground. “ _Move!_ ” She shoved Arthur through the house’s front door, pushing Amata along ahead of her. “It won’t take long for their armor to reboot. Run! _Run!_ ”

“You people are _insane,_ ” Amata snarled. 

“Not arguing that point, but right now we _really_ need to get away.”

“I don’t _understand,_ ” Arthur gasped. “What happened? What’s wrong with them?”

“I’d say the Traditional faction just got a foothold,” Veronica said stiffly. “And when people start talking about tradition, anything not traditional tends to get stomped on.” They cleared a rise, just west of town, and hunkered down out of sight. “I don’t think the Citadel is going to be safe for us.”

“I have to lead the Brotherhood. I’m a _Maxson._ ”

“Which is exactly why they’ll kill you quietly, before you can argue with them,” Veronica turned to Amata. “We need a place to hide away. Can we go to the Vault?

“You?” Amata laughed, but it was a twisted sound. “You just said that they’re going to kill you and Arthur both, and you want to bring that into my Vault? No. _Hell_ no.”

Arthur gasped. “You can’t be serio-”

A shadow fell over them; two Mojave paladins, and Sarah behind them. “Got them!” one called over his shoulder. “Tell Hardin we got them.”

The other motioned with his rifle. “Hands where we can see them. Nobody needs to be a he-” His sentence trailed off as he felt emitter of Sarah’s laser rifle _clank_ against the back of his helmet.

“I wish this wasn’t necessary,” she muttered as she pulled the trigger. 

The paladin’s armor was resilient, but at such close range there was no contest. Before he crumpled to the ground Sarah was already moving, jamming her weapon into the neck seal of the other paladin and firing again. In moments both lay dead on the ground.

Sarah knelt and collected the weapons from both paladins, offering them to Arthur. Her cheeks were wet with her tears, but her expression resolute. “All three of you. Get to Vault 101. You’ll be safe, so long as you stay there.”

“They are _not_ entering my Vault,” Amata snarled. “Not if those maniacs are looking for them.”

The rifle in Sarah’s hand twitched. “If they’re not in the Vault I have no reason to stop Casdin and Hardin from mounting an expedition down there, do I?”

Amata set her jaw, but had no reply other than to raise her chin in assent.

“Sarah, you…” Arthur groped for words. “You have to come with us.”

“I’m more useful out here. They can’t have a Maxson speaking against them. If you try to return to the Citadel, the Traditionalists will kill you.” Sarah’s tone brooked no argument. “That will not happen, do you understand me?” She glanced at Veronica. “To either of you.”

“So what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Arthur demanded.

“The Vaults were designed to save people. This one will save you.” Sarah glanced over her shoulder. “You’re wasting time. I’ll lead them off in another direction to give you some time. Move out.”

“But…”

Sarah lashed out with the stock of her rifle, cracking Arthur over his eye. “ _Goddammit_ Arthur, put your pride away and do the smart thing!” She caught him from stumbling away, and for the first time Arthur saw the fresh tears in her eyes. “Save your damned wife.”

He drew back from her then. “…all right.”

Sarah nodded, her lips thin with restrained emotion, then turned and headed north at a trot. Arthur wasted another few seconds watching her leave, before Veronica pulled him in the other direction.

*

Stepford made his way through the corridors of Rivet City. Most everyone was asleep, and the few guards only nodded as he passed.

“You’re late.”

Dr. Madison Li glared up at him as he descended the stairs into her lab. Armitage stood beside her, arms folded across his chest. “I apologize, ma’am. The situation in the Citadel is tenuous at best. I had to make efforts to ensure that none of the Brotherhood Traditionalists would suspect me.”

“Would you care to explain to me how this Goddamned disaster happened?” Li snapped.

“Talon Company interfered. The Brotherhood broke on ideological lines; the Outcasts and Mojave paladins laid claim to the Citadel.” Stepford explained. “Most of Elder Lyons’ command converted to join them. There were a few Iconoclast holdouts, but…they were eliminated. 

“Lyons was a fool, but he was also the best shot the Capital Wasteland had at stability,” Li shook her head. “I’d _hoped_ that a unified Brotherhood could check Keystone expansion to the south and protect our interests in Project Purity, but it seems like that’s off the table.”

“If the Traditionalists act in predicted manner, they will become increasingly aggressive and isolationist,” Armitage commented. “This will have the overall effect of weakening the Capital Wasteland’s ability to repulse an invasion.”

“I know, I know,” Li replied, waving away his comment. “All right. I’m not convinced this is hopeless yet. The two of you are going to do your best to patch things up with the Brotherhood, and keep the alliance between them, the Vault, Megaton and Rivet City alive. I’ll do the same on my end. But if we fail…the Keystone aren’t going to find anything useful here, if and when they decide to come in force. Do you understand me?”

Stepford and Armitage nodded. “By your command.”


End file.
